Devil drags Wang Lee deep into the forest, where the trees grow too close and the moonlight never touches. The air is thick with incense—bitter, like burnt hair. Yinzi lights a brazier filled with black powder.
"First lesson," he says, "Pain is currency."
—and fire licks up Wang Lee's arm. It doesn't burn flesh... but sears straight into his qi, twisting something inside him until he gasps. "Breathe through it," Yinzi commands coldly. "Or you'll drown in your own weakness."
Wang Lee grits his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead as the phantom pain coils through him. Yinzi watches with a predator's stillness.
"Again." The fire flares hotter—which is now licking at Wang Lee's ribs like hungry serpents. His breath comes in ragged bursts, but he forces himself to stand straight. "Good," Yinzi murmurs, "Now twist it back."
Wang Lee focuses—and suddenly the black flames reverse course, spiraling into Yinzi's shadow-form instead. The Devil's eyes flash with something between approval and warning: "Careful... that could kill you faster than your uncle ever would."
The forest is quiet. A cool breeze stirs the trees—almost like a soft, mocking laugh.
Wang Lee stands in the center of a clearing. He's covered in sweat, the black training clothes ragged and stained. His eyes stay fixed on Yinzi, who circles around him like a panther.
"Let's start it, from...Today?" he says—not quite a question.
Wang Lee takes a slow breath, then a quick inhale. "Today," he echoes. A pause. "I'm ready."
The days blur. Wang Lee moves from training sessions to meditation to training sessions, his mind and body pushed to their limits.
He can feel it now—his blood is thicker, his bones harder. His cultivation is growing. His eyes have taken on a darker edge, less naive. His gaze is sharper now. Harder.
The training has taken its toll. His hair has grown longer, and his clothes are frayed at the hem. His shoulders look a little broader... and his face is more lined. Yinzi say "Again."
By the 200th day, every muscle in Wang Lee's body aches. He can't tell where bruises end and blood begins. Breathing has become an exercise in endurance. But he can feel the qi strengthening, coiling within him like a second heartbeat.
At some point —the fire and the black smoke, the way it sears his core and leaves him gasping. Because it means he's getting stronger. That he's almost powerful enough. Almost.
By the end of the 250th day, Wang Lee's body is a canvas of black bruises and old scars. His mind is a steel trap—sharp and cold. He can still remember the way the qi had twisted through his body, like black smoke coiling up his spine and wrapping around his heart. The way it burned him from the inside out.
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Yinzi eyes gleam with something hard—something deadly. "Again."
By the time the 300th day passes, Wang Lee's eyes have lost all signs that they were ever kind. His body is lean and strong; he's grown taller, and his shoulders have broadened. He stands straight, no trace of the kind little prince he was.
Yinzi circles around him, studying him with his usual silent assessment. "Almost there," he murmurs, watching Wang Lee's every move. "Just a bit longer."
His 500th training day comes and goes. Wang Lee sits on a rock, his sword (wooden sword) by a waterfall. Yinzi stands in front of him—always watching, always waiting.
Wang Lee's face is hard, lips set in a thin line. But there's something like excitement burning in his eyes—a quiet, cold kind of violence that hasn't been there before.
And his blade glints silver in the setting sun, sharp enough to make the Devil yinzi smile. "Impressive."
Wang Lee hunches by the riverbank, half-submerged in freezing water as he scrubs dirt and blood from his skin. Yinzi tosses a rabbit at him—still warm from its kill.
"Eat," the yinzi orders flatly. "You need it."
Wang Lee stares at the carcass for a second before setting to work. His fingers are rough, calloused now—he skins it with quick efficiency learned over months of survival training. The fire crackles nearby; he roasts strips of meat on sharpened sticks until they're blackened but edible.
(He doesn't question anymore.)
By the 600th day, Yinzi can sense a change in Wang Lee—a sense of moral code growing, bit by bit, against all odds. He watches the boy, his golden eyes narrow. Wang Lee still eats raw rabbit meat, but it doesn't feel the same.
"You have...principles," Yinzi murmurs to himself, watching Wang Lee clean his sword by the waterfall. "Foolish."
Despite being a prince, Wang Lee adapts quickly to the harsh conditions. As the 600th day passes, Yinzi can't help but be surprised at the kid's resilience... His ability to endure and adapt to new rules. The fire from before seems to grow stronger.
Yinzi watches the kid, his cold eyes unreadable. Wang Lee's gaze is focused on the waterfall as water splashes his skin, rinsing away sweat and blood.
"You won't break easily," the Devil King mutters.
Yinzi's voice rings out—a sudden question cutting through the silence. Wang Lee looks up from the waterfall, hair dripping wet. He brushes loose strands from his eyes as Yinzi gazes at him with narrow golden irises.
"How are you so fast?" Yinzi asks.
"...."
"....When I was a kid," Wang Lee answers, "I used to...... race my pet....."
A pause
"cheetah."
Yinzi "cheetah?"
Wang Lee's voice falters suddenly—memories flooding back. The waterfall seems to fade into nothing. "My father...."
Yinzi watches him closely, something like understanding passing through his golden eyes.
"Your father?" he asks quietly.
At first nothing—then Wang Lee whispers: "He said if I ever beat my cheetah... he would let me spend summer with my uncle...haha...." Bittersweet chuckle, as his gaze fixed on rock front of him.
His voice is still soft, but there's a rawness to it that wasn't there before. Yinzi looks at him for a long moment—not pitying, but strangely quiet.
"See, he didn't keep his promise." he say tentatively.
In the waterfall's reflection, Yinzi can almost see the ghost of a boy—a child, running through palace halls with an energetic cat.
But the image disappears as quickly as it came.
Yinzi's voice snaps the moment apart. His order feels cold compared to the emotions that threatened to wash over the room.
"No feelings allowed," he says. "Remember."
And then they're back to training. A new routine. Harder. Faster. More intense. The way Yinzi watches Wang Lee feels almost calculating, like he's waiting for something to break...but...
The 720th day (2 years) seems to approach too quickly. Yinzi watches Wang Lee's every move, but there's a strange kind of expectancy in his golden eyes now—like he's waiting for some inevitable change.
Wang Lee's face has grown harder. The way he fights is almost lethal now, his sword moves like extensions of his hand. His body is lean, muscular. The faintest trace of a qi aura flickers around him when he moves.
Yinzi watches. He watches, and waits.
And then Yinzi asks the question—almost too casual.
"Did you ever win...in that race..?"
Wang Lee meets his gaze, the air heavy with memory.
"Are you... faster than a cheetah?" he counters. Yinzi smirks.
"Of course."
A moment.
"You weren't able to catch me," he answers simply. "Remember?"
The words settle between them—simple, undeniable. Yinzi's smirk falters for a split second. His golden eyes narrow as the realization hits him: Wang Lee had outpaced even the Devil King himself.
"...Hm." A slow exhale.
A sudden clamor breaks the quiet solitude of the forest. The sharp sound of marching soldiers, voices raised in orders. Even Yinzi pauses—head tilting as he turns toward the palace.
Wang Lee hears it too. He goes deathly still, ears straining for the sound.
"No way..." he whispers.